Page 9 of Puppy Kisses

Facts he could work with. Facts he understood. A bout with meningitis in early childhood had left him without much in the way of sight, but he had plenty of common sense. And common sense, that old bastard, was more than happy to make up for whatever else his life might be lacking.

“Oh, relax,” she said. “I’m not going to force myself into your arms. I can see that they’re full right now.”

“Iamrelaxed,” he protested.

“No, you’re not. You’re tense and all worked up and look like you can’t decide whether you want to throw me out of your house or into your bed.”

He had the answer to that ready to go. “It’s definitely the first one.”

She knew it for the lie it was. With a light, musical laugh, she leaned down and dropped a kiss on Methuselah’s head. Adam held himself still, hoping that by being immobile he could also somehow become invisible, but it was no use. Dawn pressed another of those soft, easy kisses on his cheek as she passed it by.

“You were my hero today, you know,” she said. “Saving me from that big, bad sheriff. Taking this poor, defenseless puppy under your wing without a single question.”

“Then why do I get the feeling you’re about to make me regret it?” he countered.

“Because I am.” All the playfulness dropped from her voice, her pretense at seduction gone in a flash. She was exceptionally good at that—turning herself off and on, and turninghimoff and on with it. “You can’t keep her, Adam. She’s not a service dog. Even if she were in the peak of health, which she’s not, being a guide dog takes a lot of work. Especially on a ranch this size.”

It was no use asking him to explain why that simple statement—offered in true Dawn Vasquez style without any bullshit—caused such a strong reaction inside Adam’s chest, but it did.

“You brought her here,” he said, his hand curled possessively over the top of Methuselah’s head. The puppy seemed to sense that she was the topic of conversation, but she was too exhausted to do anything more than heave a small sigh. “You put her under my protection. You made me lie to an officer of the law.”

“Technically, I didn’tmakeyou do anything…”

His laugh was sharp and short. “You never do, Dawn. That’s the thing I can’t understand. No matter how determined I am not to fall for whatever it is you’re trying to sell, I always end up holding the check.”

“Fine. I’ll go.” He felt the weight of her rising from the couch arm. She took all the heat and comfort of her body with her. “I’ll take the puppy home, where my sisters and I can look out for her. I won’t answer the phone when you call. I’ll tell Zeke that I’m allergic to cows or something, so he has to come to me in Spokane if he wants to hang out. Would that make you happy?”

Yes. No. Not even a little bit.

Adam found it impossible to express the roiling conflict of emotions he was feeling at that exact moment—or, if he was being honest, that he’d been feeling since the moment Dawn entered his life. More than six months had passed since he’d had the dubious honor of making her acquaintance, and he still wasn’t sure how it had ended up like this.

Zeke often dated women like her—beautiful women, lively women, women who knew exactly how to appreciate a twentysomething ranch hand who spent most of his free time training for triathlons. From the outset, Dawn had been different. For starters,she’dbeen the one to pick up Zeke for a date, presenting him with a bundle of flowers and a giant, heart-shaped box of chocolates at the front door. She’d also sat herself down on the couch and chatted with Adam for a full half-hour while Zeke finished getting ready, sharing stories about a life that, if they came from anyone else, Adam would have found difficult to believe.

But not Dawn. When she’d told him about running away from home to join the circus instead of going to college, he’d thought,Yeah. That makes sense.When she’d admitted she’d once dated a cult leader, he’d chuckled and wished he’d been there to witness it. And when she’d taken his hand in hers and shook it, laughingly promising to have his brother home by eleven, he’d pretty much been lost. More than anything else, he’d felt a strong compulsion to clasp that hand, to beg her not to go out for a night on the town with Zeke, but to stay and keep him company instead.

He’d almost done it, too, which was the worst thing. He’d have trotted out the braille playing cards, challenged her to a game of poker with Zeke and Phoebe, pulled out a bottle of his favorite butterscotch schnapps, and lit a few cigars for ambiance. An evening spent that way was his idea of heaven, even if it seemed tame to everyone else.

Instead, Dawn had murmured something about how attractive the Dearborn brothers were and commented on her good luck in stumbling across such a hidden treasure. And then she and Zeke had gone dancing until three in the morning. Adam knew because he’d lain awake the entire time, counting the chimes on the grandfather clock as each hour went by.

It would have been fine if Zeke had taken the relationship no further than that, treating Dawn like the casual acquaintance she was at the outset. But although his brother had admitted that there was no spark between them, they continued to hang out as friends. A lot. So much, in fact, that Adam had been eventually forced to admit that he and Dawn didn’t just have sparks.

They were on fire.

It was on the tip of his tongue to take Dawn up on the offer to bundle Methuselah home and to bundle herself home with her, never to return. There was no denying that his life would be so much easier if Dawn wasn’t in it.

But it would be a hell of a lot less interesting, too.

That was the explanation he told himself, anyway, as he wrapped a protective arm around Methuselah and lifted his chin. “You heard Marcia. The puppy needs a few weeks of good Dearborn Ranch air.”

“I’m sure the air in Spokane will do just as well. I’ve been breathing it for years and have yet to keel over.”

“Yes, but you aren’t a vulnerable animal who was left to fend for herself on the side of a highway. The last thing she needs is to be dragged around in the back seat of your car.”

“Or to be forced into training before she’s ready?” Dawn suggested.

“That too.”

Dawn gave a frustrated grunt. “I swear, talking to you is like talking to a troll who lives under a bridge. Everything is a riddle. Do you or do you not want a service puppy?”